Fading
by harrypotteraholic
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was an accident! He had never meant to save her! He was a pureblood. She was a human. A filthy, lowlife muggle. It was never supposed to happen. It just wasn't.


**Hey guys, so this is my first Harry Potter FanFiction, so whoowhoo! Real excited. So. as of now, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, but when I do I'll be sure to update. .**

**Enjoy, and PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE review. I'd like to know what I'm doing wrong, and I'm doing right. :D**

**Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize belong to Mrs. Rowling. :D  
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I don't really know anymore. I don't know what she means. I don't know why she crys.

I don't know anything.

I viciously chip away my hot pink nail polish, I want so badly for it to leave my fingernails.

The pink is not me. Becca Eastwood does not wear hot pink nail polish. Heck, Becca Eastwood does not even WEAR nailpolish. Stupid Liz. Stupid Liz and all her stupid ideas. Its all so stupid. Stupidstupidstupid.

What am I doing here? Why am I even here? Whywhywhy?

Oh, lord, Becca, pull yourself together. Are you a wimp? Are you one of those stupid, plastic barbies who just cry and cry about all their miseries and do nothing about it? Are you one of those stupid Disney princesses who just sit and look pretty? Who just wait for that prince charming? Because if you are, then your cause is lost. There is no prince charming. There never was from the start. It doesn't matter what he said. What he told you. They were all lies. He never loved you. He never will.

Hot, acidic tears began to pour down my rough cheeks. I make no attempt to wipe them away. It would be useless. They would just keep coming and coming like a volcano. It won't stop. Maybe I'll cry so much that I use up all the water in my body. Maybe then I'll die. It won't be suicide then, would it? Its "unintentional".

Death by dehydration.

How noble.

6 years ago, no one would have ever thought the great Rebecca Eastwood would be like this. Rebecca Eastwood would have been strong. She never would have cried. The Rebecca Eastwood 6 years ago had never shed a tear. Rebecca Eastwood was always strong and brave. She was the one at funerals comforting those who were bawling their eyes out. She was the one in dramatic movies laughing at the hilarity of the climax. She was the one who was strong...Why wasn't she strong now?

* * *

"Son, I need to speak with you." I looked up into the cold, unwelcoming eyes of my father. The scowl he wore on his tight face made me tremble with fear. With no hesitation, I jumped up from the floor, leaving my new wooden toy train set, and followed my father into his creepily large study. I desperately wanted my mother to be here with me. I had no idea what was going on and it was frightening me to bits.

"Whats wrong, father?" I asked in my most polite tone. He said nothing but gracefully sat himself in a large emerald sofa.

"Sit." He ordered.

I complied.

"Tell me, Lucius, why do you think we're here?"

I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "I-I have no idea, sir."

His expre_ssion didn't change. I fiddled with my fingers and tried very hard to look him in the eye._

_"Mother, I'm so…I'm so scared of him." _

_"You shouldn't be. He's your father. He loves you very much."_

_"I think he's going to hit me." _

_She looks at me with the softest eyes, but says nothing. We stand in silence for a good 2 and a half minutes._

_Then suddenly, out of nowhere, she starts to speak, "He's going to call you to his study one day. Soon. When he does, I need to look at him and not be afraid. Otherwise….otherwise, you won't get a very special gift…" her eyes turn dark, "Trust me, Lucius, you want this gift."_

I want this gift. I really, really do—even though I have no idea what it is. I swallow, and with all my might look to the middle of my father's forehead. I feel dizzy. I really want to be out of this room. The walls are caving in. I want my mother. I want to cry.

"Surely, you must have some idea." He says. His expression has STILL not changed.

"Honestly, sir, I don't."

"Liar." He hissed. When I don't reply he asks me another question. "How old are you?"

I thought this was foolish seeing as we just had my 11th birthday party 3 days ago. "11, sir,"

"What does that mean?"

"Umm, I don't know...We get accepted into Hogwarts when we're 11.." Where was he getting at?

"Oh, wow, aren't you one smart little child?" My jaw clenches but I say nothing. I'm still scared of what he can do.

He sighs deeply, as if tired of my idiocy. "You know it is very honorable to be a pureblood? I have told it to you many times. Please tell me you know it is."

I nod violently. "Oh yes sir, I do. I do."

"Good." He leans forward in his chair. "At Hogwarts, Do. Not. Mingle. with those filthy half bloods. They will make you impure. They are unclean and are not to be tolerated. They are vile, disgusting creatures that are not meant to live. They are even lower than muggles. DO NOT FORGET THIS LUCIUS! OTHERS BEFORE YOU HAVE! THEY THEMSELVES WER--…YOU ARE A PUREBLOOD, LUCIUS! YOU ARE A MALFOY! DO NOT…" He takes a deep breath, "..do not tarnish our name. Don't put us to shame, son." His eyes are ablaze with an anger I cannot explain. I still do not understand exactly why these half bloods are so vile, but I listen to my father. I do not want to get hit.

"Half-bloods are lower than the dirt. Yes, father." I still refuse to look anywhere apart from his forehead.

He puts his head in his hands and counts to 10 to calm himself. In my head, I count with him.

"I have something to show you," He says looking up. His face is expressionless, all past traces of anger now gone. Finally. I almost do a jig in my seat. The gift mother told me about! I finally get to know what it is! I use all my energy to tame my feelings of giddiness and give my face the right amount of happiness.

"Oh? And what is it, father?"

He stands up and walks over to a dark mahogany shelf. "It's a sort of heirloom." He says it so quietly, its almost as if he is speaking to himself. He pulls out a black velvet box covered in dark green beads. He slowly opens the box and pulls out a long gold chain. He then pulls out a green locket. In fancy gold lettering the letter M is painted. I look at it in awe.

"It's beautiful..." I say slowly. There were really no words for it. He doesn't look at me, his eyes are trained on the locket.

"Yes, it is." he says, putting the locket back in its place and patting the green box closed. I nod shyly.

"You can have it….once you prove to me you are a Malfoy. I have faith in you, but you must prove it to me. That locket is very special. I had to prove to my father I was worthy enough to get it. He had to prove to his father he was worthy. He had to prove to his father, it keeps going on and on. This year, at Hogwarts, prove to me you are a Malfoy."

I nod silently. He gestures to the door and I take it as my cue to leave. I almost run out the door, but I force myself to walk at a steady pace. I can finally breathe. The walls suddenly push back and the world is not so dark anymore. I run to my room faster than a unicorn. How on earth am I supposed to prove I'm a Malfoy? Should I show him my birth certificate? Surely, hes not that stupid.

I groaned. My father is so weird.

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**Soooooo**

**whaddya think?**

**Sorry if I didn't live up to your guyses expectations. Theres more to come..when the time for me to write arises, of course. ;P**

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**just saying.**

**3 Harrypotteraholic  
**


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